


What About Love

by babs



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, First Time, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Slow Build, Stargate: The Ark of Truth movie tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-03
Updated: 2019-03-03
Packaged: 2019-11-08 16:00:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,982
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17984213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babs/pseuds/babs
Summary: Jack's always been a slow mover.





	What About Love

Jack had read the reports—the extra ones SG1 sent him directly bypassing Landry. Well he read everyone's but Daniel's because Daniel's went through Landry. None of the remainder of SG1 had questioned him on it. By this point, he wasn't sure if he'd suggested it or they had.

So when Vala's report from their mission where they found the weapon to defeat the Ori had a line she'd bolded and underlined that read "Daniel screamed," and no other explanation, alarm bells rang. When Teal'c's report from that same mission described a Daniel who looked as though he'd been through hell and back, and Carter's from the mission directly after to P3K-546 noted that "Doctor Jackson showed little interest in the ruins near the city," that alarm began to sound like a red alert at the SGC.

 

But when Mitchell sent him a text on his personal cell phone no less, that said simply, "Fix him," Jack was on the phone to Landry requesting the presence of one Doctor Daniel Jackson for an important meeting in Washington D.C. The very fact that Landry didn't even question that request was the final straw.

And now said Daniel Jackson was sitting in the passenger seat of his SUV talking a mile a minute—well ranting would be a better term, wouldn't want to get that wrong—about idiot bureaucrats and short-sighted politicians. 

"I mean you get it, don't you?" Daniel demanded and put his hand on the dash as Jack braked in the heavy traffic.

"Yes, Daniel."

"You weren't even listening, damn it, Jack," Daniel said and then in a quieter voice that Jack was sure he wasn't supposed to hear, said, "No one does anymore."

"I do listen," Jack said and spied an opening in one lane over. "But do you really want to have this conversation in summer weekend traffic leaving D.C.?"

Daniel let out a long sigh. "Okay. But later."

Later, Jack hoped, would mean Daniel was calm and ready to talk about the real issue which was what the hell had gone on that Daniel hadn't shared? Because there wasn't any hint of screaming nor of disinterest in ruins in Daniel's report. No, Daniel's reports had been their usual thorough ones complete with footnotes when necessary. 

Traffic ground to a halt and Jack glanced over at Daniel who sat scowling at the non-moving cars as if by doing so he could make them disappear.

"You really like this?" Daniel asked and twisted in his seat to look at Jack. "You know if you'd let me stay in a hotel downtown, I wouldn't be dealing with this."

"Gotta pinch that SGC budget somehow," Jack said. "And no, I don't 'like' it. I tolerate it." He motioned to the glove box. "Open it."

Daniel raised his eyebrows and opened the box. "Oh." He pulled out the chocolate bar—some Belgian fancy-schmancy stuff Jack had remembered Daniel had mentioned once.

"Eat it and relax," Jack said. He was hoping that Daniel would finally let that tension leave his shoulders, that the smile would return, and he'd find his passion instead of anger.

Traffic started moving again as people remembered how to drive in a construction zone and Jack listened to Daniel making small noises of pleasure while he ate the chocolate. If only he'd thought to stock the car with a travel mug of coffee, he would have made Daniel's day.

He was relieved to see his exit ahead—once he got off, traffic would quickly clear. There was a reason he'd rented the house in the country. Despite the traffic, at least his nights and days off were relatively uneventful. And in this case, perfect for one SGC archaeologist slash linguist slash SG1 team member who needed peace and quiet even if he didn't know it yet.

Daniel stared out the window as they followed the winding country road—wherever he was, Jack thought, it wasn't on Earth. When they turned down the lane, Daniel straightened as if he was gathering strength for whatever came.

"Home sweet home," Jack said as he pulled onto the driveway. 

"Jack O'Neill, gentleman farmer?" Daniel asked as they got out and giving a side-eye to the cows grazing in the meadow.

Jack shrugged. "My landlord rents out the pasture." He gestured towards the west. "The neighbor has the barn and the milking operation." He looked at his watch. "And in a few minutes they'll be headed down that way."

Jack handed Daniel his bag and shepherded him towards the door. "Let's get you settled."

He wondered as they walked into the house why he'd never invited Daniel to visit. Of course, Daniel had been to D.C. since Jack had taken his new position, but he'd always stayed in a hotel and Jack would spend time there.

He knew Daniel would love the house—built in the early 1800s, the house had plenty of charm and more than enough history. But first things first, Jack thought. Daniel was swaying slightly.

"Follow me," Jack said and went up the stairs. He opened the guest room—that hadn't been used since he moved in. He realized as he opened the door that the bed had the comforter he'd always thought of as Daniel's—the one Daniel would wrap himself up in when he complained that Jack's house was too cold. And the pillow was the old one from Jack's couch in Colorado.

Jack opened the window to let in the summer breeze while Daniel stood in the middle of the room and blinked.

"You have time to take a nap if you want," Jack told him.

Daniel shook his head. "I'm not tired."

Sure you aren't, Jack wanted to say, but he kept his mouth shut. "Okay then. How about I give you the two cent tour?"

"Only two cents? I think I can afford that," Daniel said and his mouth quirked up in the barest smile.

* * * *

A half hour later, Jack had one clearly exhausted Daniel settled on the porch with a glass of lemonade, a glider rocker, and a blanket because no matter the fact that it was close to eighty degrees and the sky promised a thunderstorm, Daniel shivered every now and again.

"We'll put on some steaks later," Jack told him when he sat down beside him. 

Daniel nodded and watched the cows walking to the barn.

"So how's things?" Jack asked.

Daniel looked at him, pushed his glasses up, and gave a brittle smile. "You know. Same old, same old."

Ah—so it was going to be that game.

"Yeah, I know," Jack said. That was the problem—he did know. Years of reading Daniel, the man who never wanted to show weakness in front of his military colleagues. 

Daniel screamed—bolded and underlined. Jack thought back to missions they'd shared. Could he remember a time Daniel had screamed? 

Hell, he could count on the fingers of one hand the times he'd seen Daniel cry when he wasn't under the influence of some alien weirdness. Two—a night after Sha're had been killed and they'd returned from Abydos and burying her. Daniel was walking aimlessly around his apartment, touching things, and came across a little bowl. He'd clutched it to his chest and sobbed, trying to hide the emotion from Jack. The other had been on a mission where a child had fallen into a lake and Daniel had tried to save her. Despite his CPR, the child had died in Daniel's arms and Jack remembered him rocking the small body while tears rolled down his cheeks and he kept apologizing to the parents and the little girl.

He sat quietly, watched Daniel watch the cows and try to resist sleep that was obviously needed. What are you afraid of, Daniel, he thought. What haunts your dreams?

Jack glanced at the growing thunderheads in the west and stirred himself to put on the steaks. 

"Anything I can do?" Daniel asked.

Tell me what happened, Jack wanted to say but he only said, "There's stuff in the fridge for a salad. You can mix something up." He looked into the distance again and saw the wind bend the grass in the meadow. And there it was—the far off rumble of thunder. 

Daniel moved like an old man, Jack noticed—little of his usual grace, walked into the kitchen trailing the blanket as if he'd forgotten he still had it wrapped around his body.

The heat built—the humidity of a Virginia summer that made Jack miss the dry heat of Colorado. Hell, if he was honest, he missed everything about Colorado even the blizzards. 

He pushed the tongs on the steaks—enough give that the steaks were done the way Daniel preferred—rare. He put them on a plate as the first heavy drops of rain started to fall. Jack ran onto the porch as thunder cracked nearby.

Daniel looked up from the salad bowl at Jack's entrance. "That came up fast."

"They always do," Jack said. He put the platter on the table and pulled his shirt away from his body. "I hate being wet."

"Go change," Daniel said. "I'll finish setting everything up."

* * * *

Oh, this was not good. Not good at all. Jack came back into the kitchen only to find the screen door standing open and Daniel on the porch, unmoving. At least he wasn't standing in the storm. Jack thanked whatever power looked over wayward Daniels for that blessing. 

"Hey," Jack said as he stood beside him. "You want to come back inside?"

Daniel shuddered and looked at him as if he didn't realize he was outside. "Yeah. Um. Sure."

The storm was already moving east, and Jack figured in an hour or two, it would be nice to sit on the porch and watch the stars come out. The humidity would ease, the temperature would cool and hopefully Daniel would lose some of the pinched look he wore.

"Sorry," Daniel said as he pushed his plate away. "I guess I'm not too hungry."

Jack glanced at the plate—only a few bites of the steak eaten and none of the salad.

"Leftovers are always good," he said. "You feeling okay?"

He already knew Daniel's answer would be 'I'm fine,' but his spidey sense when it came to reading Daniel indicated Daniel was about as far from fine as he could be.

"Yeah," Daniel said. He began playing with his fork, touching his knife and then moving his hands to his lap before repeating the routine.

Jack said nothing but began the clean-up. "We'll do the dishes later. Why don't we get into more comfortable clothes and then we can sit on the porch."

"Sure," Daniel agreed and left the room walking a bit crookedly as if he'd drunk something stronger than iced tea. 

Jack had purposely avoided alcohol with their dinner. It had been tempting to get Daniel drunk and then hope he'd spill, but some wounds needed to be lanced without anesthesia. 

* * * *

"I know you sent me a picture of this place, but I didn't realize it was quite so remote," Daniel said as they sat on the porch an hour later.

"It's not that remote," Jack said. He tossed the blanket Daniel had used earlier over to him. "Town is only five minutes that way." He pointed to the west. "It just seems that way to you since you're used to the Springs and D.C."

Daniel nodded and stared out at the scenery. "The cows are back."

"Yeah. They'll be out tonight and then go back in tomorrow morning for milking," Jack said.

"They won't come in your yard will they?" Daniel asked. 

"I hope not," Jack said. "But if they do, I'll just call Bill and he'll come get them." He paused. "Wait a minute. You're not scared of cows are you?"

"I'm not scared," Daniel said with his chin upraised. "I'm just concerned."

"Okay then." Jack leaned back in his own rocker and watched the sun set in the reflection of Daniel's glasses. It was taking all his self control to not just demand a explanation. They had time. Well at least they had four days.

For a long time there was only the sound of their rockers on the wooden porch, the soft chirp of crickets, and if one listened closely the sound of grass being pulled and chewed by cows. Jack remembered how much he'd always enjoyed being silent with Daniel. Carter felt the need to speak whenever silence grew too long, and although Teal'c did the whole silent thing very welll, Jack always felt that something profound needed to happen with him. With Daniel, silence was comfortable-- like wrapping one's self in a well-worn sweater. Maybe that was the heart of their friendship—being comfortable in each other's silence. And until this moment, Jack realized, he hadn't known how much he'd needed it in his life.

"Oh." Daniel was standing, his hand outstretched towards the grass.

Jack got to his feet, looking and not seeing anything to warrant a reaction. Was Daniel having some sort of weird flashback?

"I haven't seen fireflies for a long time," Daniel murmured as Jack stood by him. He was looking at them with the wonder of a child. "They're beautiful."

Jack looked out at the flashes lighting up the yard and meadow. After the storm there were lots of them and he stood by Daniel, allowed himself the luxury of putting his arm over Daniel's shoulder and simply stood to watch the evening's show.

* * * *

Daniel had lasted longer than Jack thought he would. But finally, he'd given in to his need for sleep and excused himself to go to his bedroom. Jack finished drying the dishes and started locking up. There was another storm on its way—he could hear thunder and see the flash of lightning over the mountains to the west. 

He went upstairs, saw the peek of light under Daniel's door. He hesitated a moment before knocking.

"Jack?"

Jack wasn't surprised when Daniel didn't open the door. "Hey, I just wanted to let you know another storm's headed this way. If you have your window open, you might want to close it before you stop reading whatever it is you're reading and go to sleep."

"What makes you think I'm reading?" Daniel sounded indignant.

Jack snorted. "Hello. I know you."

There was the sound of the window being closed and then Daniel was at the door. "I'll see you in the morning, Jack."

And if that wasn't a dismissal, Jack didn't know what was.

 

He fell asleep to the sound of rain and woke up with his heart pounding when he heard a noise in the hall. He go out of bed and opened his door cautiously. 

"Daniel?"

His friend was standing against the wall, his body shaking, breath coming in harsh pants.

Jack approached him with hands low and open at his sides. "Daniel?" 

"Jack?" Daniel looked at him with recognition which was a good thing as far as Jack was concerned.

"You're in the hall," Jack said softly. He went in Daniel's room, pulled the blanket Daniel had taken to bed with him off the bed and wrapped it over Daniel's shoulders.

"Dream," Daniel said and held the blanket closer while he shivered. Shivered in a house where the air temperature was nowhere close to cold.

"Let's go downstairs," Jack said and guided him towards the stairs. He wasn't so sure he liked this docile, biddable Daniel.

He settled him on the sofa and went to the kitchen to make coffee. He had a brief flash of memory of Janet Fraiser having a fit over him smuggling coffee to a bed-ridden Daniel in the infirmary and for the first time in a long time, the memory brought a smile rather than pain.

He rummaged in the pantry to find some sort of food to give Daniel—surely he had to be a bit hungry and came up only with some pretzels. He took the bag into the living room and handed it to Daniel.

"Might want to eat a few of those to settle your stomach," Jack told him and Daniel took the bag and nodded.

Jack stood and watched the coffee pot fill and looked out the window into the night. It was still raining although the storm had stopped. He opened the door, breathed in fresh air.

He filled two mugs—one black, one with cream, two sugars and went into the living room. 

"Want to sit outside?"

Daniel looked up at him, a pretzel half in his mouth and nodded. He grabbed that blanket that Jack was beginning to suspect was acting as more security than warmth and followed Jack onto the porch.

Daniel watched the night, Jack watched Daniel who hunched over his mug, gripping it with both his hands as if by doing so he could warm his soul.

Jack dared to reach over and touch his forehead. "I think you have a little bit of a fever."

Daniel shrugged. "I don't feel sick." and then shivered for good measure.

Soul sick, Jack wanted to say, but instead he said, "Drink your coffee and I'll get you a couple of Tylenol."

He came back out on the porch only to find the coffee mug on the table, half drunk, and Daniel sitting with his head back, mouth opened, and eyes closed. Jack debated waking him but figured Daniel needed the sleep more than the bed.

He looked at a face that was immeasurably dear to him—wanting to smooth away the lines, trace his fingers over each feature and oh...now he hadn't expected his mind to go down that path.

He fucking loved Daniel. He knew he loved Daniel—but this was new. This wasn't the love he'd always felt—this was love love. 

Let's be honest, O'Neill, he thought. There's a reason you wanted those personal reports, a reason that Carter, Teal'c, Vala, and Mitchell always mentioned Daniel's actions, Daniel's state in them. There's a reason Mitchell thought you were the one who could fix him. And since it was time for honesty—a reason why you ran away to DC and a reason why you still kept thwarting plans for Daniel to go to Atlantis. And yeah, this probably wasn't going to be the best time to let Daniel know Jack O'Neill, his best friend, was in love with him. Yeahsureyoubetcha.

* * * *

"Daniel." Jack shook his shoulder. "C'mon. Let's get back inside." He twisted his neck, stretched his back. He hadn't meant to fall asleep and even though he knew they hadn't fallen asleep for that long, he figured neither of them needed the stiff muscles that would accompany a night spent in the damp.

Daniel opened his eyes and sat up. "Ow."

"Yeah. I should have woken you up right away," Jack said. He gave Daniel his hand. "Up and at 'em." 

"Sure." Daniel stood and closed his eyes again. 

"You definitely have a fever," Jack said, feeling the heat through Daniel's t-shirt. 

"I can't be sick," Daniel said.

"Of course not." Jack guided him in the house and towards the sofa. "I'll get a thermometer. Just rest."

He grabbed the thermometer and the bottole of Tylenol from the bathroom, detoured to the kitchen to get a glass with ice and water, and sat down on the edge of the sofa. "Open up."

Daniel opened his mouth and let Jack put in the thermometer. "Not sick," he mumbled around the plastic.

"Okay." Jack had learned a long time ago it was easier to just let Daniel insist he wasn't sick. He waited with a hand on Daniel's hip. "I'll get the fan from my office. That'll help cool you off."

The thermometer beeped. "101.6," Jack told Daniel. "But you're not sick."

"Give me the damn Tylenol," Daniel said. He took them as if it was Jack's fault he needed them.

"Does your stomach hurt? You gonna need a bucket?" Jack asked.

Daniel sighed. "Headache and I feel cold. And tired."

Jack nodded. "Drink some of the water while I set the fan up."

By the time Jack finished making the room a bit more comfortable, Daniel was asleep again. Jack stretched out at the end of the sofa—and settled down for the rest of the night.

* * * *

The smell of coffee woke him. Jack sat up with a groan. Okay, sleeping on his sofa had not been the smartest idea. But coffee—he looked to the other end of the sofa, saw the bunched up blanket and pillows on the floor.

He stood and stretched, not without a few muttered curses, and walked into his kitchen trying very hard to not hunch over. God, he was getting old.

The sight of Daniel hovering, there was no other word for it, over the coffee maker made Jack smile.

"Feeling better?" Jack asked.

Daniel held up his hand and poured a mug even though the pot wasn't filled. He held it towards Jack.

Jack shook his head. "You first."

Daniel took a sip of it, plain, which told Jack just how much Daniel was craving the caffeine. 

"Here," Jack said and handed him the cream from the refrigerator. "Sugar's on the counter."

Daniel just nodded, added his cream and two spoonsful for sugar and sighed as he took another sip.

"You back among the living?" Jack joked as he bumped Daniel out of the way to get his own mug.

"I'm not sure yet," Daniel said. He leaned against the counter, his eyes half-closed.

Jack brushed his fingers on his forehead and felt a slight jar of worry when Daniel didn't snark at him to stop it. "Fever feels like it's gone."

"I think it is," Daniel said. "Don't know what it was. Maybe the travel? I don't know. I feel like I could sleep for a few days though."

"Torture will do that to a person," Jack said, almost without thought. He regretted the words as soon as they were spoken. Damn it, he'd wanted to ease into it.

Daniel put his mug down—carefully as though he were handling a precious artifact. He traced a finger around the rim, down the handle. "What torture?" He looked at Jack, unblinking.

Oh they were going to play that game. 

"You know damn well what I meant," Jack said. "Vala said you screamed."

"Vala needs to keep her damn mouth shut," Daniel said. He shivered and raised his hand to block Jack. "I don't—I can't—just not now. I'm not ready."

"Okay," Jack said. He knew Daniel well enough to know that was all he was going to get for now. 

Daniel grabbed the mug again, took a gulp, and stared out the kitchen window.

"Hey," Jack said, keeping his voice soft. "Why don't you go take a shower and I'll cook us up some breakfast?"

He saw Daniel's mouth turn up in a smile. "Are you saying I stink?"

Jack grinned. "Just go."

Daniel finished his coffee and put the mug in the sink and Jack looked in the refrigerator to see what he could make.

* * * * 

"These are really good," Daniel said as he held up a forkful of waffle.

"You say that like you're surprised." Jack tried to look hurt.

Daniel looked around the kitchen. "I don't see any Eggo boxes."

"Just for that, the last one is mine," Jack said and speared it with his fork. "And I made them from scratch."

Daniel raised his eyebrows.

"Okay, it was a mix. Locally made mix. What? I had to add the milk and eggs."

Daniel shook his head and turned his attention back to his plate. Jack watched him, the final waffle forgotten. 

Daniel's hair stood up in spikes from his shower and his face was paler than Jack thought it should be, but he'd eaten three waffles and didn't appear to be in any distress. 

"What?" Daniel looked up at Jack's scrutiny. "Something wrong?"

Jack shook his head. "No. Just thinking."

"I'm fine, Jack," Daniel said and then yawned. "Do we have plans for today?"

"I was going to suggest the farmer's market on the other side of town," Jack said. "Maybe a drive?" He shrugged. 

"That sounds good," Daniel said and yawned again.

"You can take a nap," Jack said. "I'll get this cleaned up. The market is open until three. We can go later."

Daniel nodded and stuffed the last of the waffle in his mouth. 

Jack watched him go with a pang of regret. Fix him, Mitchell had said, and Jack didn't know how to bring back the smile that had always been in Daniel's eyes before.

* * * *

Jack took the last load of laundry up to the bathroom—and paused by the guest room after putting the towels away.

Daniel was asleep—sprawled across the bed instead of curled up tightly like he'd been last night on the sofa. He'd opened the window and turned on the fan and the curtains billowed away from the window. Jack checked his watch—nearly noon and he debated waking his friend. He hesitated and then went into the room, sat down on the edge of the bed and watched Daniel sleep. His fingers ached to smooth out the frown in Daniel's forehead—as if even in sleep, he couldn't escape whatever demons he carried with him. He longed to tangle his fingers in the short hair, press his lips to Daniel's. He presssed his hands between his thighs and sat silently even though he knew he should leave.

Daniel shifted and Jack held his breath.

"Jack?" Daniel opened his eyes. "Something wrong?"

"Just making sure you were still breathing," Jack said, trying for lightness. He cupped a hand on Daniel's cheek, telling himself he was checking for a return of fever, but hell, he had always been a master at lying to himself.

To his surprise, Daniel turned his head into Jack's palm. "No fever," he murmured, his breath hot on Jack's hand.

"No," Jack said. "No fever." He looked down at Daniel who was looking up at him as if Jack held all the answers.

Daniel brought up a hand, covered Jack's when Jack started to pull away. Jack raised his eyebrows.

The thing was, he'd known—or at least had suspected Daniel was at the least bi. He'd never asked, of course. It wasn't really his business. And maybe just maybe there was a part of him that didn't want to know because if he knew and his guess had been wrong, he wouldn't have been able to pretend that there was hope some day in the future.

"Jack."

"Daniel," Jack said. "You?"

"Lie with me," Daniel said and tugged on Jack's hand. "Just---be here."

Jack toed off his shoes and stretched out beside Daniel. He sighed as Daniel laid his head on his chest, wrapped his arms around him. He bent to place a kiss in Daniel's hair—it smelled of Jack's shampoo and an undeniable scent of Daniel—something he'd grown to recognize from years spent sharing a tent off-world, time spent sitting next to him in meeting after meeting.

Daniel rubbed his fingers on Jack's forearm—and Jack felt goosebumps along his spine. "This is--" Daniel paused. Jack knew the hesitation—Daniel searching for the word he wanted, the man who knew power of words, the way they hurt, the way they changed lives. "Right." Daniel looked up at Jack. "This—you are right."

Jack smiled back at him. "Now there are words I never thought I'd hear the great Doctor Daniel Jackson say."

Daniel pinched his arm. "You know what I mean."

Jack did know and knowing meant everything from this moment would be different. "So where do we go from here?"

Daniel said nothing for a time, placing his fingers over Jack's as if measuring them. "Maybe the better question is where do we want to go from here."

Jack wrapped his arms tighter around Daniel, hugged him close and kissed him when Daniel turned his head to face him. "We've wasted ten years, Danny."

Daniel pulled away slightly and Jack opened his arms. Daniel moved away from him, sat cross-legged and Jack envied him that ability. Daniel leaned closer, kissed him once, twice before sitting up straight. "Time spent with your best friend and falling in love with said friend is never wasted."

Love. Jack hadn't wanted to say the word out loud even though he felt it with his whole being—had felt it for years even when he'd thought of Daniel only as a friend, his best friend. 

"But," Daniel said as he stood up. "for now, where we go is to the promised farmer's market and drive."

Jack stood up, closed the window, turned off the fan. "Anything you say."

* * * * 

He trailed Daniel as they walked around the farmer's market—stopping at each booth, engaging each producer in conversation. Jack shook his head—leave it to Daniel to make a trip to a market a study in anthropology. He was glad he'd remembered to bring a cooler filled with ice. So far Daniel had bought goat cheese, some sort of olive paste, at least three bags of the waffle mix Jack had used at breakfast, eggs, home-made soap that he said Carter and Vala would love, a pint of raspberries, two loaves of bread that looked almost too pretty to eat, some sort of lettuce Jack didn't recognize,and a chicken for roasting. Jack knew he'd hear the stories of each purchase and realized he'd been coming here for over a year and hadn't had more conversation with the people he bought from other than the price and a thank you. 

Jack handed Daniel the keys to the SUV and told him he'd be there in a few minutes. The humidity had built and the earlier breeze had given way to still air and the promise of a late afternoon storm. Jack headed towards the stand that was always busy on a summer's day and bought two snow cones.

"Here," he said when he met Daniel on the parking lot. "Root beer or lemon-lime?"

Daniel tilted his head. "Which do you like?"

"I like both. Just pick one and get in the car." Jack handed him the lemon-lime when Daniel pointed to it.

They sat in the SUV, the a/c on full blast, while they ate their snow cones. 

"When I was a kid," Daniel said, "and we were in New York, my dad used to buy these for me. I haven't had one in years."

"Charlie used to love the blue raspberry. Sara, not so much. He had so many shirts that couldn't be salvaged." Jack smiled at the memory even with the pain that was always there.

They sat in the quiet then—only the sound of the a/c and people leaving the market. 

"We should get the stuff home," Daniel said.

Home—Jack liked the way Daniel said it even if home wasn't here in Virginia. He knew it wasn't—had known from his first day in D.C. His home, his heart was in Colorado. Leaving the SGC had not been one of his better ideas. He wasn't making a difference here, couldn't play the games needed. And the SGC needed people who had been through the Gate—people who knew what it was like out there, people who cared about more than Earth. He didn't know if he'd burnt too many bridges and he wasn't going to even mention it to Daniel.

"Jack?"

"Yeah," Jack said and leaned over to kiss away a trickle of lemon-lime syrup from the corner of Daniel's mouth. "Mmm," he said while Daniel shook his head.

* * * *

"I know you suggested a drive," Daniel said once everything had been put away, "but that sky isn't looking very promising."

Jack looked out the window. "Yeah. We can take a drive tomorrow." He snagged Daniel as he walked past. "I'm sure we can find something to do here."

"Well I can put the chicken in the oven to roast," Daniel said. "That'll use up some time."

"We gonna watch it through the window?" Jack asked, gesturing to the oven.

"Go watch TV or something," Daniel told him. 

Jack sat down at the kitchen table. "Nope. I'd rather watch you." 

Daniel rolled his eyes. "If you want."

Move carefully, Jack warned himself. He wandered into the living room, grabbed a book of crossword puzzles and went back out to the kitchen. 

He settled in to lose himself in a puzzle and listened to the sounds Daniel made as he rummaged through Jack's spices.

"How can you not have paprika?" Daniel asked and Jack looked up to see his meager collection of spices arrayed on the counter.

"Um—I don't need it?" Jack suggested. He looked at his watch. "The grocery store is closed."

Daniel muttered something under his breath and moved the spices around in some fashion that Jack figured made sense to only him. "Okay. Okay, I can work with this."

Jack smiled and went back to the puzzle. He heard water running sometime later and noticed Daniel had the chicken in the oven and was scrubbing potatoes. 

How domestic, Jack thought and realized how much he enjoyed domestic. His house had felt never more like home. 

* * * *

"This is really good," Jack said as he ate a second helping of chicken and potatoes. 

Daniel shrugged. "Just roasted chicken and baked potatoes."

"I've missed your cooking," Jack said. He remembered dinners at Daniel's apartment with Carter and Teal'c. When he'd first seen Daniel's kitchen decked out with what he guessed were very expensive pots and pans, he'd thought they might have just been for show. He'd been wrong. Daniel was a good cook, an excellent cook who used those pots and pans to create delicious meals for his teammates.

Daniel put down his fork and looked at him. "No one was keeping you away."

There was hurt in the words. And truth—truth that Jack hadn't wanted to face. Sure he'd gone back to the SGC when needed, usually to make sure Daniel was still alive and breathing, but he hadn't gone to Daniel's home, spent more time than necessary there before heading back to D.C. He'd been scared. He knew that now. Scared that what he felt, what he wanted wasn't possible. 

"No," Jack said. He took a deep breath. "I was afraid, okay?"

"Afraid?" Daniel raised his eyebrows, furrowed his brow. "Of what?" He tilted his head and then said, "Oh."

"Yeah." 

Daniel sighed. "It'd be nice if life were a whole lot simpler. Or like a movie where just saying I love you is enough to solve everything." He shook his head and got up, started taking plates to the sink, the chicken to the counter.

The kitchen got dark—darker than it had the day before with the storm. Jack went into the living room, got his weather radio and turned it on. Daniel busied himself with putting away leftovers, doing anything Jack suspected, but facing more truths. He was going to run out of things to do—and Jack prayed he was strong enough to catch him when he did.

Thunder cracked overhead, loud, harsh, and Daniel flinched. 

Lightning flashed and there was another loud crack. Jack had grown used to the summers in the East—hot, humid, nearly daily storms when the heat built, but Daniel had been away from the East and Midwest for years and this one was going to be a doozy. The weather radio repeated the storm warning telling them the wind speed, course of the storm, and reminded people outdoors to seek immediate shelter. No tornado warning this time though. Just lightning, thunder, and heavy rain.

"It won't last long," Jack said as Daniel moved away from the counter. He was shaking again, much as he had last night.

"Wait!" Jack yelled as Daniel went to the door and stepped onto the porch. "What the hell are you doing?" He followed him.

Daniel had taken a step off the porch, already soaked to the skin. "The cows. They're out..." He looked lost.

"Oh for crying out loud," Jack said and hauled him back on the porch. He hustled him into the kitchen. "They aren't stupid enough to stand in a storm. They probably didn't leave the barn after milking." And Jack knew it really wasn't about cows at all.

"Come in the living room," he said. "Away from the storm." 

When Daniel made no effort to move, he tugged on his hand, guided him away from the door. He made sure Daniel was sitting before he ran up to the bathroom and grabbed a couple of towels and made a detour into his bedroom to grab a sweatshirt and pants. 

Daniel was still on the sofa—thank heaven for small favors, Jack thought. He shuddered with each clap of thunder and lightning flash. Jack tossed him a towel.

"Strip and dry off."

He didn't think his own desire to towel Daniel dry would go over that well. Not yet, at least.

Daniel looked at him, took off his glasses and began to do as Jack had ordered. He stood in a puddle of wet clothes and dried himself slowly as if he'd forgotten how towels worked. Jack handed him the sweatshirt and pants silently and gathered up the wet clothes and towels.

By the time he'd deposited them on the washer, Daniel was sitting again—and just as Jack thought he would, he'd pulled the blanket close around him.

He looked up at Jack—his glasses forgotten on the table and Jack thought, my God, did I ever look that young?

"Sorry," Daniel said. It took him two tries to get the word out. "I don't know what I was thinking."

Oh you do, Danny-boy. You do. You just don't want to admit it. Jack kept those thoughts to himself. 

"You warm?" Jack settled for saying.

Daniel nodded and then shivered. "I'm sorry," he said again.

Jack moved closer, sat down next to him, put an arm over his shoulders. "Whatever for?" A memory unbidden of Daniel in a white room, crying, apologizing for being a head-case made Jack hold him closer.

Daniel rested his head on Jack's shoulder. "I don't know." 

The room was silent but for the storm and then there was another louder crack and the light in the kitchen flickered once, twice, and then died. It amazed Jack how much quieter a house was when the electricity went off—no humming of appliances, just complete utter silence. Well except for the thunderstorm still raging outside.

Jack rubbed his hand on Daniel's arm, felt the shuddering lessen as the thunder moved off. 

"I wanted to die," Daniel said into the silence. "I hurt so bad and I wanted to die."

Jack stilled his hand, forced himself to say nothing. He waited—years of knowing Daniel guiding him.

"No matter what I said, no matter what I did, I knew it wouldn't make a difference. And I knew I'd failed. Again." Daniel's voice cracked. "I was so tired of fighting. All these years fighting and nothing mattered." 

Where Daniel rested his head on Jack's shoulder, there was a wet warmth. 

"I begged and she said she couldn't, wouldn't help." Daniel said after a time. "I read mission reports when I got home again, when everything was over. Searching for whys and I found yours. From when I was--" He raised a finger skyward.

Oh God, Jack thought. Oh God. 

"I'm sorry," Daniel said. "I'm so sorry."

"No," Jack said. "You were there with me. That was what mattered."

Daniel turned into him more fully, wrapped his arms around Jack's middle and let out a single hoarse sob. "I'm so tired, Jack."

Jack held on—keeping him above the dark water. It was all he could do.

* * * * 

Jack roused Daniel enough to guide him up the stairs and into the guest room. The storm had passed and the electricity had come back on about a half hour before. Now, there was a different silence—the sounds of a summer night. The temperature had cooled significantly, the humidity gone as the breeze picked up. The night sky promised clear weather. Jack opened the window, turned on the fan and turned around to see Daniel watching him,his eyes glittering in the light of the bedside lamp.

"Stay," Daniel said.

Jack stretched out behind him, draped his arm over Daniel's torso. Daniel grabbed his hand, squeezed it, brought it up to his lips and kissed it.

"Thank you," Daniel whispered. 

Jack nuzzled into Daniel's neck, kissing away the salt of sweat and tears. "I wish--"

"Don't," Daniel said. "We go on from here."

Jack felt his breathing sync with Daniel's, felt Daniel's hand fall away as he gave in to the sleep he so desperately needed, and for now, it was, it had to be, enough.

* * * *

"I'd forgotten how soft the mountains are in the East," Daniel said as they sat at an overlook eating the lunch Daniel had prepared with he'd bought at the market the previous day.

Jack studied the round of bread smeared with goat cheese and took a cautious bite. Not something he would have chosen, but he had to admit, it was passable.

"You like it?" Daniel asked.

"I never bought any before," Jack said. There was a smear of goat cheese at the right corner of Daniel's mouth. He started to tell him and then leaned over and kissed it away. "Tastes even better with Daniel."

Daniel laughed. "Maybe that should be their new slogan."

"I'd buy them out," Jack said. He looked off into the distance—the view more clear than usual due to the low humidity. He tapped his fingers on his thigh, watched Daniel watching the sky.

"I don't want this to end," Jack said. 

Daniel turned to him, raised his eyebrows in such a characteristcally Daniel way that Jack had to smile. "Time flies." 

"I didn't mean today. I meant what we have. What we need," Jack told him. "You know."

"I know," Daniel said. "I've always wanted to build up more frequent flyer miles."

"You do get a discount," Jack said, knew even as he said it, it wasn't going to be enough for him.

"We'll work it out," Daniel promised, placed his hand in Jack's. 

Jack nodded and pulled Daniel up. "There are a couple of wineries around here that offer tastings on Sundays."

"I'm game," Daniel said as he gathered up the picnic supplies. "Lead on."

* * * * 

Time did indeed fly—and Jack stored up the memories to last until they would see each other again, and as he saw Daniel off at the airport, he texted Mitchell. "Mission started but not totally accomplished. Still have work to do."

Mitchell texted back that evening. "I see what you mean."

So Jack continued to get his extra reports and saw the small joys come back into Daniel's, but their plans for get-togethers never seemed to quite work out. Jack might have had weekends off, but SG-1 did not.

"Carter," he said when he called her one day in December. "The mission is a go."

"Yes, sir," she said and he could feel her smile through the phone.

* * * * 

Jack breathed in Colorado winter air—dry and cold and snow that felt like powder. He smiled at each person who welcomed him back, shook Landry's hand.

"Welcome back, Jack," Landry said. "You could have had this job, you know. The President suggested it as a solution."

Jack shook his head. "I have reasons for not wanting certain people under my command. And seriously—you would want to leave this and go to D.C.?"

Landry gave a mock shudder. "I see what you mean. It is pretty amazing isn't it?" 

"Davis is a good man and he'll be invaluable as we work towards changing the mission of the SGC. He's been here, he knows what we do."

Landry gave him a sideways glance. "He knows Doctor Jackson."

"Yes. Yes he does," Jack said. He looked down at the Gate room, felt a thrill as chevrons lit up.

"We can discuss how you want to run the training for new recruits and ongoing education," Landry said. "But I figure that can wait until you're settled in." He gave Jack a knowing smile.

Jack followed him out the room, down the stairs and into the Gate room as SG1 came through the Gate.

"What the—what is that smell?" Landry said.

Jack looked at SG1—covered from head to toe in mud—well he hoped it was mud and not the manure it smelled like. 

"Jackson here decided to touch something he shouldn't have," Mitchell said. 

"It was quite colorful," Vala added helpfully.

"It could have led to something interesting," Carter said.

"Daniel Jackson, watch your step," Teal'c said to the subject of discussion who was engrossed in cleaning his glasses. 

Jack didn't think it would help very much considering Daniel appeared to be muddier than the others.

"Showers first," Landry ordered. 

"Yes, please," Jack said.

Well that got a certain person's attention, Jack thought. Daniel looked up, his eyes widening and a grin splitting his very dirty face.

"Jack? What are you doing here?"

"I have my reasons," Jack said. When Daniel went to say something, he held up a finger. "Which I will be happy to share with all of you after you are clean."

The rest of SG1 left the Gate room but Daniel trailed behind, looking back at Jack and tilting his head as if he was puzzled. 

* * * *

"Why didn't you tell me?" Daniel asked for what Jack estimated was the tenth time. He'd asked repeatedly in the briefing and the infirmary where Jack came to wait with SG1 until their post mission check ups were done and in the hall when he'd followed Daniel to Daniel's office. "Everyone else knew."

"Surprise?" Jack said once they were in Daniel's office with Daniel's office door closed and locked.

Daniel frowned at him. "It would have been nice to have a clue." He moved some file folders from a chair to his work table. "But still--" He smiled. "It is a nice surprise."

Jack pulled him close. "I thought so."

"You're here for good?" Daniel asked and gave him a quick kiss.

"For good," Jack said. "Or until you get sick of me. Speaking of which---"

"I don't have a guest room in my apartment, Jack." Daniel grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. "Then again, I'm thinking you might enjoy my bed." He looked at Jack over his shoulder. "It's very comfortable—and big."

"I put myself in your hands, Doctor Jackson." Jack grinned and followed him through the corridors of the SGC—home at last, back where he belonged.

* * * *  
Jack didn't know what time it was, other than way too early and way too dark, but he turned over in bed to look at Daniel gently bathed in the bit of street light that peeked through the curtains. He was sleeping with a smile on his face—Jack felt his own lips turn up in answer. Kissing Daniel had been sweet, sex with Daniel had been amazing. Jack hadn't realized just how skillful Daniel's hands were. He brushed his fingers down Daniel's cheek, across his lips, and then stopped when Daniel made a soft noise. 

"Go back to sleep," Jack whispered and kissed him before getting up to go take a piss. He grabbed his phone from the night stand and stood in the bathroom a moment to send a text to Mitchell, musing that before Daniel, he also was broken.

"He's fixed."

**Author's Note:**

> I challenged myself to write a fic where Jack and Daniel fall in love but there's no on-air sex. I like to think I've succeeded.


End file.
